Morning Call
by Doublebee
Summary: "Nooo, of course not. I just want to stand here talking to you with my Johnson hanging out!" Oneshot. Soul gets a little surprise one morning after he gets out of the shower. ...It's pretty weird, I'm not gonna lie. But, enjoy anyway.


"Maka."

The currently-stirred-awake meister shook her head at Soul's voice that hummed in her ear, pulling his arm tighter about her slender hips and tucking it underneath the side she was currently laying on. Her scythe- or rather, her _Deathscythe_- only sighed at her reaction with a smile, dipping his lips down in order to press a random assortment of kisses along her jaw and ear, making her squirm and moan peacefully at the attention.

"Staaay with meee~" Maka whined, rolling onto her back and giving Soul the biggest pout her tired face could muster. And, although he found the girl just _so fucking adorable_, the three-day mission he'd just got back from not five hours ago left him feeling exhausted and disgusting, even more so as he lie beside his perfect little Maka in her cozy bed.

"Lemme shower and I _promise_ I'll come right back."

The girl gave a pout, sticking out her lower lip as her eyes searched his for a sign, or at least a glimmer of promise. Finally deciding she could trust his word, she nodded, slowly letting go of the hand of his in her grasp.

"You better not be lying, Soul Eater," she fakely scolded, before snuggling deeper under the puffy comforter as Soul himself climbed out of the bed, making his way to the bathroom.

He yawned as he slammed the water on; shedding the denim blue pajama bottoms he'd worn in Maka's bed. The _only_ thing he'd worn in Maka's bed.

That thought made him smirk with pride as he stepped into the glass encasement of running water, something that seemed to be motherfucking _foreign_ in Alaska, where his last solo mission had been.

Ever since he'd become a Deathscythe, he'd been receiving more and more solo missions, a seemingly odd thing at first for a scythe that was pretty much dependent on its meister. Though, slowly but surely, the Deathscythe soon grew used to getting separate missions from his meister, going away for sometimes days or weeks at a time. And Maka was always there when he returned, waiting for him with open arms as he staggered back to her, battered, bruised, and terribly homesick.

Soul sighed softly to himself as the warm water of the shower washed away all the grime that had been caked into his hair follicles, his hands, his pours, everywhere. He scrubbed harshly, until his skin was a dull pink color to assure the dirt and blood from the mission was gone, from every solitary section of his body. When this simple pleasure was assured by the soap that lathered him being purely white, the scythe snapped the shower off with ease, stepping out into the cool air of the bathroom.

He wasn't paying much attention, though, and just as he was about to reach for his towel, too…

"Yo! Yo! Good morning, Soul~!"

A loud screech erupted from Soul's mouth, a very uncool noise indeed, he noted as it echoed off the walls, and nearly doubled its sound frequency in the halls of the shower. There was just _no way_...

There was only one person _that_ could be.

Soul whipped around to face the voice he'd heard countless times, just, none of those times in which he was _naked with said person in his __own__ bathroom mirror_. Red engulfed the skin of his cheekbones, and he quickly made sure his waist was _below_ the counter to hide his shame.

"S-S-Shinigami-Sama…" Soul sputtered, whipping his soaking wet bangs to the side in order to see him clearly through embarrassed crimson eyes. "Do you n-need something, sir?"

The death god gave his odd laugh, his form bouncing slightly in the entirety of the mirror as he kept hollow, black holes trained on Soul's wet, naked, and shivering form.

"Do you want a towel?" The headmaster asked, titling his head as a dog would at the sight of a new toy.

_Nooo, of course not. I just want to stand here talking to you with my Johnson hanging out!_ Soul thought as he hurriedly snatched his towel, wrapping it around his lower half as he stood up straight, still blushing a bit.

Shinigami-Sama quickly explained that Soul was free from missions for the week, a message that could've waited until later, to poor Soul. He also added that the Deathscythe should remember to bring clothes into the bathroom when he showered, and, not wanted to get slapped with another mission or crappy chore, the Deathscythe had only replied that "he'd been too busy to remember" which, was partially true.

After a few minutes, no more than fifteen, of chatting, the death god hung up, leaving Soul staring hotly at his own reflection. Crimson eyes glistened with mortification as he shook his head, running a hand through color-less locks as he dried off, and stepped back into his pajama pants, quietly slinking back to Maka's room and into her warm bed.

Thinking she was still asleep, the scythe wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against his front as he buried his nose into the warmth of her neck, the scent of vanilla filling his nostrils. No more than five seconds passed, though, before Maka herself burst out into a fit of shy giggles, turning around in Soul's arms to face him, their faces centimeters apart.

"Did you get a 'call'?" She asked, her words holding a torment-filled tone to them as her viridian eyes flashed with mischief.

Soul, however, was not amused with her question as he grimaced in embarrassment, rolling his hips into hers slightly as he curled up closer to her warmth.

"Don't _even_." He murmured as he pressed his lips to her forehead in a kiss. Maka giggled again, her legs tangling with his as she sealed the space between them, not a space to be seen.

"Awwh. Did the big bad Shinigami-Sama make fun of my poor lil' Soulie-kun?" She pressed on, using a teasing voice, almost like Blair seemed to use, as she let her hands roam about his bare, toned torso.

Soul snorted, pressing light kisses along the length of her gorgeous neck, trying his best to ignore her teasing. Could he _ever_ get a break? …Most likely not. Not even from his own girlfriend.

"You're gonna be sorry if you keep this up…" He warned in a playful growl against her ear, his skilful fingers snaking up her pajama shirt to stroke bare skin. She shivered, giving a low, bubbling giggle as she arched up against him.

"Not as sorry as you were when you got caught naked by your boss."

"'Least I had something to _show off_."

THUD.

Soul found himself on her hard-ass bedroom floor, groaning in discomfort as he sat up, only to see Maka turn her back to him in her bed.

"Maka, c'mon, I was kidding!"

"Whatever. Go flash your boss s'more."

Soul scoffed, getting up with a crack of his back as he planted a kiss on Maka's exposed head as he slinked out of her room, the sound of his pajama bottoms scraping together with each step the only sound he heard in the quiet apartment.

_Maybe,_ he thought as he stepped into the kitchen, picking up a pan with a curious look, _a breakfast in bed would keep her from beating me alive later…_

**Roleplaying. It does this to me.**

** Review, don't review, whatever floats your boat. X3 Just wanted to bring a little hilarity into your day. :3**


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